The Godfather: Heir to Power
by Sydoe
Summary: Vincent's dead and without any proteges or heirs to take the name of the Godfather. All goes to hell for the Corleone family as Tessio's nephew becomes Godfather. The search begins for the true heir to the seat of Don. It's my version of the Godfather Par
1. Chapter I

**The Godfather Part IV**

Book I: Summer 1990

Chapter I

"'Hey, Enzo!" a teenager called from his seat in Juanito's Delicatessen. "Enzo, where's my spaghetti?" He looked as if he was still in high school, but already in his senior years. He wore a black leather jacket with a red-and-white striped shirt underneath. His pants made him look like someone out of _Grease_ or Fonzie from _Happy Days_. He looked towards the kitchen door, from where a chubby Italian-Mexican emerged. He was entering the twilight of his years, but looked able enough to work around.

The chubby man had a graying mustache and a clean bald head with some wrinkles showing up around the forehead. His eyes were pure proof of his Italian origins. Many people had said they came from his father.

"Wait a minute!" the chubby man called out to the teenager and went back through the kitchen door. A minute later, he was out again of the kitchen with a white plate of spaghetti in his hands. He handed the spaghetti over to the teenager, who looked very pleased and satisfied upon sight of the plate.

The teen tossed a nickel or two to the chubby man, to which he replied, "_Grazie…_" The chubby man returned to his kitchen and decided a smoke would do him some good.

Lorenzo Miguel Juanito walked out of his delicatessen kitchen door with two large garbage bags in his hands and a stained white apron tied around his neck. He walked over to the side of the door, where two equally large garbage cans sat quietly in the strong winds of the Little Italy evening.

Juanito, along with his family, was Italian-Mexican, but lived mainly in Italy. The family had many good businesses in Venice, and decided to try their luck in the United States. So, when Juanito's father got the chance, he and his two eldest sons immigrated to New York in 1947. Juanito's father was the person who established the deli after immigrating into the United States from Italy. Juanito and his brother, Antonio helped around the back of the deli. They were the master cooks of the deli.

At first, Antonio was the rightful heir of the deli, since he was the eldest child. However, he was found guilty of smuggling heroin in a drug ring with the Barzini crime family. Antonio was disgraced and sent to prison, thus leaving his father and brother to work together in the deli.

When Juanito's father died in 1963, Juanito was tasked to keep his father's good name. He took charge of the deli, and was first approached by the Corleone extortionists in 1964. He paid regularly to the family, and was visited once by Don Michael Corleone.

Juanito was also visited by the other families or other various Italian-American crime families, but it seemed that his influence was with the Corleone family.

The last few years had become much better for Juanito and his business as mob violence had reduced in New York during the Vincent Mancini-Corleone's rule as Don Corleone. Their usual business of extortion around Little Italy had slowly halted and let Juanito keep his money rather than pay the Corleone family for 'protection.'

Vincent had graced his presence around the Juanito's deli a few times, but either for a personal collection of money or just lunch. He complimented Juanito on his Italian salads and how they "set Little Italy's food choices to live up to its name." Whenever he said this though, he said this with a tone that obviously told Juanito that he was lying just to keep the Corleone influence over the restaurant.

Then, Vincent decided to shift the Corleone business over to sleaze and corruption. Juanito never saw the Don in his deli again. He did see though one or two of his cronies usually come over to collect the weekly collection. They stopped coming over to the deli over three weeks back.

Since then, Juanito's business boomed again and he no longer worried about the Corleone family coming to threaten his fine establishment ever again.

Before opening the door to the kitchen once again, Juanito reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin and fresh cigarette. He put it in between his lips and reached again into his pockets to pull out a lighter. At this point, he left the door and decided to walk deeper into the alleyway.

He ignited the lighter and brought it up to the cigarette butt and carefully tried to light the cigar. The wind, strong as ever though, blew the light out. Juanito groaned in disbelief and cursed silently in Italian.

The wind became weaker as he got deeper into the back of the alley. He walked all the way to the end of the alley, where a number of black trash bags sat. There was a foul smell around the bags. "Smells like somebody died here," Juanito even commented. Flies flew busily over these bags and bugged Juanito as he tried to light his cigar.

One of the flies landed on the lighter hand and caused Juanito to drop the lighter on the ground. But it did not land on the concrete ground as Juanito expected. It landed on something else. It was a long and thin item like a fattened stick or an extremely thin pig. At the end of the item, there were multiple tips. There were five of them.

The cigarette lighter landed on something organic. The lighter landed on a human arm.

Juanito stumbled back in horror. Who in the right mind would dump a body behind his deli? More importantly, whose body was this? The horrors of a dead man's rotting body stashed away behind his deli gave fearful thoughts to Juanito. How would he ever explain this to the police?

But then again, Juanito knew from recent experiences that the police forces usually disregarded any low-life murders. Basically, they disregarded the no-bodies. Juanito figured that if this was somebody lowly, the police would just leave him be.

The corpse could've been why the garbage people haven't picked up the trash in days now.

Juanito slowly crouched on the ground and took the lighter from the ground. He placed it back in his pocket and reached for the arm. The arm was dressed in a black silk sleeve and thus told Juanito that the corpse still had a suit on.

_Low-lives cannot afford suits_, Juanito thought. _Maybe he stole it…_

Juanito tugged on the arm and used all his strength to pull out the entire body from the large pile of garbage bags. He pulled the whole corpse out into the light to gaze on the stature and form.

The corpse was a man in his middle years. His hair hadn't begun graying yet, but his short Dali mustache seemed to have shown signs of twilight age. His hair seemed clean despite the pieces of dirt and trash; it was brushed back the way Italian hair usually was. Juanito figured that when he was young, the man had been very handsome. He figured that this man was a ladies' man. But that couldn't be anymore since pieces of his face had been bruised and chewed on by parasites; his left ear was missing. There were gunshot wounds on his back and leg.

"_Fottuto…_" Juanito practically yet silently shrieked at the sight of the corpse. The face was horribly damaged. Any joker could go now and tell anyone that this dead man's face was one only a mother could love.

But however, there was something in the man's features that made him recognizable. Juanito had seen him once or twice, but could not exactly figure out who he was. Perhaps he was a customer around the deli, but Juanito couldn't be sure because of his face damage.

Juanito closed in on the corpse's mutilated face and examined it for any distinct features. And then, Juanito's jaw dropped. His mouth came agape in realization. He would be in big trouble if anyone saw this corpse. To be frank, he knew he was already in trouble for discovering it.

The corpse belonged to Vincent Mancini-Corleone, the Godfather.

Juanito stumbled backwards and tried to crawl away as quick as he could. He left the corpse in the light of the alley and ran back into his deli kitchen. He picked up the phone and began rolling his chubby fingers through various numbers.

The dial tone rang thrice, and ended when the sound of a phone being picked up came on the line. "Hello?" the person on the other line asked.

"Andrew?" Juanito asked. Andrew was his friend in the Corleone family. He operated as a soldier under the family's _capo di tutti_. He knew Juanito when they were just kids, playing on the streets around the corner of the deli.

"This is he," Andrew answered Juanito.

"It's Juanito," Juanito said quickly. "Listen carefully, I found a dead man in the back of the deli."

"What?" Andrew asked in a tone that made it seem as if he couldn't understand a word his friend said.

"A dead guy…" Juanito repeated to Andrew. "Behind my deli, I found a dead guy."

"Why'd you call me?"

"I think…" Juanito took a moment's hesitation to answer. "I think…" He started breathing heavily in obvious worry. He relaxed and tried to compose himself over the phone. "Where's the Don?"

"Missing," Andrew replied. "He's been missing for a day or two now. No one knows where he is."

"I think… I think…" Juanito hesitated again. Then, he blurted it out, "I think the Don's dead. I think I found him in the garbage."

"Are you sure?" Andrew asked with a now-shocked tone. "How… Are you sure that it's Vincent you found?"

"His face has been half-eaten. He's missing an ear," Juanito informed. "Please don't bring anyone else. Come alone." He then began to sob. Those panic attacks got easy to him.

"OK… You wait right there," Andrew answered. "I'll be right over." He put the phone down quickly and left Juanito slowly shedding tears of panic.

Juanito put the phone back into the holder and turned to lean his back against the wall. He slowly untied the apron and put it on the kitchen counter. He slid down and buried his teary face in his large hands.

Andrew arrived two minutes after. He, along with Juanito, confirmed the corpse as that of Vincent Mancini-Corleone and called the Corleone compound thereafter. A ceremony was held in his honor three days after, and three days after that, a funeral.

Among the many visitors in the funeral were Vincent's close relatives and even some of his enemies. Andrew and Juanito came, of course, but the most distinguished guest seemed to be Vincent's mentor and uncle, Michael. Also present were the new heads of the other Crime Families; they were direct descendants of those who Michael had killed many years ago when he became Don. And although they all exchanged glances, they did not mention any words towards each other, nor express any form of personal anger or vendetta concerning the incident in which the other Dons were killed so many years ago.

Michael shed no tears during the funeral, but said some words for his fallen nephew. Right after the eulogy, Michael left and mentioned nothing about the next Don. As far as he was concerned, Michael was already out of the business.


	2. Chapter II

Chapter II

A week or two after the funeral, there was a call made to all the _caporegimes_ (all the _capos_ were told about this and gathered actually) to gather right away in the Corleone compound. The call was made by Vincent's _consigliere_, Thomas Tessio—the nephew of family traitor, Salvatore Tessio. No one thought of Tommy to be a traitor like his uncle though.

Tommy did have some of his uncle's looks though. He had a jaw that looked like it was moved forward and bushman eyebrows that meant business. His face seemed somewhat suspicious, but wise and intelligent.

The _caporegimes_ gathered in Vincent's office, where Tommy was already waiting on a chair with a bottle of wine and a shot right in front of him. As soon as they began entering, Tommy was already drinking the shot, and by the time all of them entered, Tommy was done drinking.

Tommy stood from his seat and shook each of their hands. He thanked each one for being able to make it and offered them all seats around the office. He then took his own seat and began.

"Gentlemen, we are caught in a problem," he began in his cool and calm voice. "As it turns out, Vinnie died without any students or sons. He died alone, as some of us like to think." Tommy was one of the only people who called Vincent by that name. Close friends of Vincent knew him by that name and called him that too.

"And since he died alone," Tommy continued, "he was never able to name who would follow him as the Don. That's where our problem comes in."

"You want us to decide who's gonna be the Don?" one of the _caporegimes_ asked.

"More or less," Tommy answered.

"Well obviously, it has to be one of us," another _caporegime_ commented.

"Basically any one of us in this room," Tommy added. All heads turned to him with great suspicion.

"We meant a _caporegime_, Tommy," the first _caporegime_ told the _consigliere_. "You're just an advisor. Advise us on whom to choose." In the ranking of organized crime, the _caporegimes_ were higher in rank than the _consigliere_.

"Well I was a _caporegime_ before I became _consigliere_," Tommy objected. He raised both his hands to his shoulders as if trying to take in positive answers. "Doesn't that put me in or something?" The others nodded in agreement. Tommy was, like his uncle, intelligent. He could've been a lawyer as his father wished, but he decided to join the crime business than to join a cause against it.

"So who wants to be the Don?" the second _caporegime_ asked.

"Hey, wait a minute," Tommy stopped him. Again, all heads turned to him. "This isn't exactly like drawing straws. We need someone to run it all. We need someone who won't screw up."

"You're talking about who should be the next Don," the third _caporegime_ commented. "The Don can't screw up."

"Yeah," Tommy answered. "But let's first think about it. First, who spent enough time with Vinnie to learn the tricks of the trade?"

"You," the others answered in unison.

"Who knows how to work the business?"

"You," they repeated.

"Who was the last Don's advisor?"

"You," again they answered.

"So who should be the Don?"

They didn't answer. There was an awkward silence as Tommy raised his hands again. He smiled at the _caporegimes_. They all walked out of the office one by one as a sign of agreement.

It was drawing straws and Tommy got the longest one.

Michael remained out of the business.


	3. Chapter III

Chapter III

For the longest time, Lorenzo Miguel Juanito was without family in Little Italy. He was without family in New York. His father had been caught and shot in a gang war-crossfire, and his brother was imprisoned and not to be heard of again. Juanito's family in Italy had dissolved forever, and had divided into different parts of the world.

For the longest time, Lorenzo Juanito was alone.

The sun had just begun to rise. It signaled the twilight of yet another day and the birth of a silent night. Men and women begun taking out their trash or preparing dinners for the family. Juanito was preparing to close down his deli. At this time of day, not many were really coming to grace their presence at the deli.

Juanito entered his kitchen, smelled the dreaded foul stench of peeled oranges and sour expired milk, and wondered it had engulfed his entire kitchen in under a week. Juanito walked over to the garbage can next to the back door. Staring inside the waste box, Juanito knew he had to take the trash out now.

The old chef took the garbage bag by the edges and rolled it up into a big bag over his shoulder like how Santa Claus would with his bag of toys. Despite the smell, he managed to keep it over his shoulder as he took the bag out of the kitchen.

Coming out into the alley, he looked to his sides to see if there was anyone there who would be so kind to throw his trash for him. And to his surprise, no one was. He was left all alone in the living dark of the dying day to bring the garbage on his own.

He swallowed his saliva and ventured towards the back of the deli like a soldier marching into the battlefield. He gripped the garbage bag harder as he took a step. The image of Vincent's arm filled his mind and gripped it with fear.

The sound of police sirens began wailing in the air and hid his solemn and secret prayer to the Virgin Mary for protection. It was a prayer he had learned in Italy from his mother. It was the only thing he had to remember her. Other than that was a lullaby that kept her image pure in his memory.

The police sirens began to fade away into the distance, but the wailing did not stop. There was still a sound in the distance. There was still a sound that distracted Juanito in his prayer. This cry was a high but soft cry. This cry was a human cry. It was a baby's cry.

_It could be the neighbors_, Juanito thought to himself. He continued walking towards the end of the alley; the garbage bag was still slung over his shoulder; his courage still instilled in him.

At the end of the alley, there were once again the piles of garbage bags. Some were ripped or burst open. Pieces of waste and trash had already spilled out to form their own piles of waster. At the side was an open cardboard box; one Juanito had not seen earlier. The cry came from this box.

Juanito tossed the bag into the pile along with the other bags and walked slowly to the box. He curled his hands into fists in case it was something unnatural. He summoned up his strength to help him if anything would happen to him.

The box was moderately damaged. A piece of the box had been roughly torn off. There were tiny holes near the base and bottom of the box, and crumpled newspapers emerging from inside the box.

Juanito peered into the box and saw the dirt-covered body of a live baby boy crying his lungs out. His head was devoid of hair and he was proof that there were truly such things in this world as ignorant parents. _Or perhaps they were just poor_, Juanito said to himself silently.

He took the baby gently out of the box with two hands and made a cradle out of his arms. He rocked the child from side to side. The baby still would not be silent, so Juanito tried to sing a lullaby. Everyone noted though that he wasn't quite the singer; that he was just one octave off. But still, he tried to sing.

There is a song enjoyed by many Italians called _Eh, Cumpari_. It's a quick joyous song of sounds and instruments that many Italians still sing to this day.

Juanito tried his hand at this song, since he couldn't remember any lullaby that his mother taught him. It became evidently embarrassing to Juanito as he sang the tune since he had forgotten words in each verse that passed and his imitations of the various instruments were not so convincing.

But to his amazement, Juanito watched the baby suddenly quiet down. The baby cooed, but seemed emotionally fragile. The baby could have cried any moment after Juanito stopped, which was why he had to play again.

In the back of the kitchen, Juanito liked to keep an old trumpet his father gave to him as a gift. He frequently played it when he had the time and seemed better at it than he was at singing.

He gently put the baby boy on the kitchen counter, away from the knives and cutting tools. He laid the baby flat on the smooth table's surface and took out his shiny golden trumpet from one of the kitchen cupboards.

Holding one of the keys, Juanito gently blew into the trumpet and began playing a solemn tune familiar to local Italians. It was a tune of sadness and despair; a song of love and betrayal; a story of family and hope. It was the lullaby Juanito's mother sang to him when he himself was just a mere baby, and although he could not remember the lyrics of this Old Italian song, he did remember the sweet rhythm and tune of the lullaby.

The baby quieted down for the longest time and opened his eyes wide to look at Juanito's. The baby's eyes were pure Italian eyes, just like Juanito's. And because of that, Juanito stopped playing and broke down in song.

"You were blessed with the beauty of art," Juanito said sincerely to the baby. "You are now my child, as I was to my father and mother. You are now my son… Leonardo."

And for the longest time, they peered into each other's eyes wondering of the endless possibilities of their new partnership.

This is where our story truly begins.


	4. Chapter IV

Book II: Winter 1997

Chapter IV

Seven years slowly passed and Juanito taught Leo everything he knew. He taught Leo basic and applied mathematics to help in the business and more importantly, he taught Leo how to cook. Leo helped around the kitchen as much as he could and became as skilled as cook as Juanito. Soon, Juanito was able to handle the kitchen all by himself while Juanito stood by at the counter taking orders.

As Leo became older, he showed more of an Italian personality with a sort of brashness towards superiority, wisdom towards complicated situations, cowardice towards what he feared, and leadership amongst all. Juanito taught him how to speak Italian as well as he did English, and they usually spoke in Italian either when they were passing orders or having private talks.

It was truly a father-and-son business. Every customer had even thought it so. They made the business better than ever, but thus made it prone to extortion offers and even threats from every family except the Corleone Family. Ever since the incident involving the discovery of Vincent's corpse, the Corleone Family respected Juanito's Deli rather than threatened it.

On certain occasions, Juanito would task Leo with special deliveries or would make him a messenger to other local businesses or friends. Leo did each job without arguing or complaining; he was a very obedient boy.

At the end of the day, before closing up, either Leo or Juanito would bake a pizza or some special Italian food for dinner and they would talk until it was late in the night. Then, they would both go to bed (Juanito in the basement and Leo in the upper floor) and would wake up early the next morning to set up the deli for business.

Winter broke in as snow fell on the rooftops and streets of New York, and engaged the children of Little Italy into a merry variety of games. And despite the innocence of his childhood, Leo refused to step out and join them. He had to work.

So instead of playing with them, Leo sat indoors watching the young children play. Since Leo woke up first, he usually had the pleasure (or the pain to some) of speaking in monotone to himself, as if he had no one else in the world but himself. He would speak in hushed tones though so that no one could hear him, especially Juanito, who seemed to have a heightened sense of hearing, or so Leo thought. Sometimes, Leo sang instead of speaking, but he still did so quietly since like Juanito, Leo was always an octave off.

"_Ce' la Luna o mezzo mare…_" he began singing the folk song and tried to think again of old days when Juanito would take him around the street to the theatre to enjoy some Italian talent. Sadly, the theatre had been destroyed a year or so back when the manager had refused to pay extortion money to the Tattaglia family. They made the manager an offer he wouldn't refuse, and the day after, no one was able to ever go back inside the theatre.

Leo knew very little about the Five Families. He knew their names, but he didn't exactly know whose business was whose, and who controlled which area of New York. He did know though that there was a joint ownership over Little Italy by the Cuneo Family and the Stracci Family. Then again, which six-year old child knew everything about the Five Families? Leo had a pretty good idea about how they operated and wondered them on many occasions. During their talks, Juanito would sometimes even mention them once or twice. Not a day went by that Leo did not see any soldiers of the Five Families walk by the deli or around the streets with magnums in their pockets. Leo would even feel shaken if he saw something larger than a magnum in their pocket.

Leo glanced at the wall clock and saw that it just struck fifteen past eight. He scoffed. Juanito usually woke up at eight-ten. Or maybe he was just heating up the oven for breakfast. Leo already ate _biscotti_.

Two minutes had passed after this when Juanito finally emerged through the kitchen door. He was still fat; one could even say he was larger than before. His head was still devoid of hair, but tiny hairs and little discolorations were widely visible. His mustache had fully grayed and wrinkles had begun to appear underneath his eye sockets. The years of twilight had finally fallen upon Juanito.

"_Buon giornio, figlio mio_," Juanito greeted.

"_Buon giornio, papa_," Leo returned the greeting.

"Have you eaten yet?" Juanito asked. Leo looked up at him.

"_Biscotti_," Leo answered.

"Eh, that's not enough. Let me make you _carbonara_ or something…" Juanito then told Leo.

"It's okay, pop."

There was a silence that followed. Juanito walked over to the front of the deli and flipped the closed sign to declare the deli officially open for business. He then walked back over to the counter.

"What time does the bistro down the street open?" Juanito then asked. He had begun tying his apron on.

"It should be open now, why?"

"I need you to give a letter to Don Givinni," Juanito informed him. "You know the owner of the bistro." He reached underneath the counter and took out a small envelope with the name "Givinni" boldly written on the front. The back of the envelope was sealed to assure that no one could take a look inside besides Givinni himself. Juanito handed the envelope to Leo. "Can I be assured that you will give this to him?"

Leo only nodded. "But what about the first orders?" he asked as he took the letter and got off his seat. He had taken his cap and his delivery pouch even though he was giving just one letter.

"I can handle the first orders," Juanito answered. "I own the deli." At the end of this, Leo was already outside the deli.

The street Juanito's Deli was on was an intersection. The deli sat on the left side of the street beside Wallie's Pawnshop and the back alley where Juanito found Vincent's corpse and Leo's box. At the end of the street was a little green bistro, which some had described to be equal in quality to Juanito's Deli, if not superior. It was owned by Givinni, who was Juanito's childhood friend. On occasions, Juanito went with Leo to the bistro and they would get a special table near the stage to watch the entertainers perform different numbers and songs local to Palermo, Sicily, and Naples.

Leo liked Givinni. He thought of him as a second father. In a way, he was a like a godfather to Leo. Juanito trusted his life to Givinni, and knew that if he failed to be a parent to Leo, he would pass the privilege on to Givinni. Givinni had a niece who helped around in the bistro. She served drinks and was to Leo what Givinni was to Juanito.

Since the death of Juanito's father, Juanito and Givinni had taken ultimate control of their restaurants since Juanito's father had a joint ownership of the bistro with a businessman who was killed in a bank robbery. The two businesses had an effect over the street, which was in ways similar to the effect that the Five Families had over New York. They came to a point in which their businesses more or less owned the whole street.

In a way, they became considered as the heads of the businesses in Little Italy, which meant not too well for the Family with control over Little Italy. Juanito and Givinni had the strength of the businesses behind them.

The street was decorated with showers of snow and wet streets, which varieties of cars still drove through. Leo walked across the street dodging the slow but small traffic of the scene. He figured that traffic was slow either because of the slippery streets or the playing children in the middle of the intersection.

He ran down the sidewalk across the street as soon as he reached it and avoided hitting any of the pedestrian men and women.

Some had believed that the image of Little Italy in the nineties was still the same image it had in the thirties and in the fifties when men still wore open suits with fedora hats while the women wore their elegant yet creatively modest clothing from decades past. There were even some children who wore those old flat caps from the fifties, but they was about to lose its style to the modern day caps.

The bistro was on the outside a large dark green stoop with windows covered by drapes and a green door with a sign that read "open for business." Above that was a sign that read "La Bistro Givinni." Like Juanito's Deli, there was a back alley in the bistro and that also led to the kitchen. Givinni's niece usually sat around here since the kitchen was extremely warm and the cool breeze of fresh air relaxed her.

Leo walked through the bistro entrance into a dark room illuminated by few colored spotlights that shot towards the stage. On the side, dim lights revealed the bar and the bartender to patrons.

The bartender was probably the most distinct among the people in the bar. He had a thick gray mustache and frizzy brown hair on his head. The head hair was graying too, but not too much to be noticed. He was the owner of the bar; he was the owner of the bistro. He was Don Givinni.

Leo approached the bar and being able to be seen in the light was shouted at by Givinni in his thick but wheezy Italian accent, "Kid, you old enough to drink?" A few seconds after this Leo was in the dim lights of the bar and could now be seen by Givinni.

"Hey! Leo, what're you doing here?" Givinni rephrased himself at the sight of Leo's face.

Leo said nothing and took out the small envelope from his delivery pouch. He handed the envelope to Givinni saying, "From papa."

Givinni reached out for the envelope and grunted as he did. He was a few years older than Juanito, which made him a few times weaker now. Givinni took the envelope in his hand and as he read his name on the cover, he nodded and grunted again. "Okay, thanks, kid. Wanna stick around for awhile? Kayla's got some _ravioli_ coming in awhile."

Leo smiled. "Sure."

"She's out in the kitchen," Givinni raised a thumb pointing to the kitchen door. "You can go if you want."

With a smile still on, Leo went into the kitchen. It was much more professional looking that Juanito's kitchen, but it was still as hot as a summer day in the Middle East in there.

Kayla was Givinni's niece and godchild from Givinni's sister. Givinni's sister had married an American businessman, and they lived a successful marriage together and had Kayla. But as any family does some time, it all came to a downfall when they had become bankrupt. Kayla's parents lived together still in Louisiana, but Kayla was sent to work in her uncle's bistro down in Little Italy.

When she just moved to New York, she was the shyest being you would have ever seen. She was a good cook around her house in Louisiana, and was surely a good cook in the bistro, but she was shy. The night she moved into New York, as soon as the restaurant began closing down, two guests came over to the bistro and these guests were widely welcomed by Givinni with open arms.

These two guests seemed alien first to Kayla, but as she ate with them along with her uncle over dinner, she learned that she had nothing to be afraid of. These two friends were Italians and they were good men. The first guest was an elderly man; he was Givinni's childhood friend. The second guest was much younger; Kayla believed he was the first guest's son. And he was. The second guest became a good friend to Kayla. His name was Leonardo.

They were close friends from that moment on; as they say in America, "They stuck like two peas in a pod." They helped each other whenever the other needed it most, and became the best of friends ever since they met.

Kayla was said to look as beautiful her mother, but she also seemed to have missed out on the Italian gene and took up instead the American gene her father had. She acted more like her father than her mother, but nobody really blamed her for doing so.

"Hey, Kayla," he greeted as she turned a knob on the oven. She didn't notice him enter the kitchen. But after he spoke, she turned her head and smiled.

"Hey," she greeted back. "How are you now?"

"Good," he answered. "You busy?"

"The _ravioli _might be able to take care of itself," she told him. "Uncle Givinni can handle it if things go wrong. Why? What's up?"

"Nothing much," Leo started scratching the back of his head. There was a sort of nervousness that tingled up his spine as he said this. The nervousness increased when he asked her, "Want to walk?" He was unsure of why he was nervous, but he constantly questioned himself in his mind why he did.

Kayla smiled at him, "Sure." She took off her apron and they both walked out of the back door into the back alley of the bistro.


	5. Chapter V

Chapter V

Little Italy is—as the name implies—Italy but smaller. This includes Sicily's vast beauty, Naples' richness in history, arts, and culture, and even Rome's majesty. If one could walk through the whole area, he or she could swear that they went through Italy itself.

Kayla and Leo walked through a few blocks and saw more or less pieces of Italy around them. They heard music and saw Italian life in the sidewalks they walked and were caught in awe of the scenery.

"I hope Little Italy stays like this forever," Kayla commented as they walked. They were about to go around the block and after that reach the street where the bistro and deli were located.

"Yeah," Leo agreed quietly. Kayla's attention was aimed at the scenery. It was almost as if she hadn't noticed Leo with her anymore. Leo decided to start another topic, "So, your parents still in Louisiana?"

"The same Forest Hill, Louisiana," she answered in a Southern tone. "My dad told me that if he gets promoted, I'm going to move back to Forest Hill."

"Would you come back to New York if you had the chance?" Leo asked. There was a tone of worry in his voice. There was a moment of silence that followed the question, which was shortly followed by her answer: "I don't know."

The silence resumed.

"Maybe I would," Kayla broke the silence. "Why?"

"It's nice having you around," Leo said and looked down at the sidewalk. He didn't want Kayla to notice that he was slowly smirking. "You're a good cook," he added to give her a different impression of what he was really thinking.

The two remained silent for the rest of the walk and continued walking around the block until they reached the street they both lived in. It was quieter than usual; less people than earlier in the morning.

Before they crossed the intersection that led to the sidewalk where the bistro was on, Leo noticed a tiny spark of light flash on the door and on the windows. Then, the bistro burst into a great ball of flames. Pieces of steel and stone shot out into the street. Leo embraced Kayla to protect her from any of the incoming debris. She cried out loud at the sound of the explosion, as did many others.

The explosion died and fire just burned behind the broken windows. People rushed towards the ruins of the bistro and looked inside to see if there were any survivors. Kayla herself struggled out of Leo's arms and ran to the door. She swung it open and immediately called out, "Uncle Givinni?"

She ran inside the burned bistro and searched for her uncle. Leo ran after her into the bistro. When he entered, he didn't hear the crackling of fire or the collapsing of broken wood, but rather the high-pitched scream that belonged only to a girl. Leo looked for the source of the scream and deducted that it could only be Kayla.

Leo found her kneeling down before a corpse covered by debris of stone. The corpse was burned and dusty from all the fallen concrete. Splinters of wood had cut his face all over. It was Givinni.

Kayla began sobbing over her dead uncle's corpse. Tears streamed down from her eyes to her red cheeks. Leo crouched down beside her and did his best to comfort her for the death in the family.

In this event alone, Little Italy had lost its beauty for a moment.

The funeral took place in a small part of Little Italy near the bistro. It was a small ceremony. A few of Givinni's family members gathered. Leo and Juanito came as well. Kayla said many things about Givinni during the eulogy and broke into tears in the middle of it all.

After the funeral, Kayla stated that she wished to remain in New York for the rest of the year and thus, she moved into the deli with Leo and Juanito. She promised to work at the deli as an extra helping hand.

With Kayla around, deliveries and orders were easier to do. Juanito was able to catch up on paying debts and buying groceries for the two kids he was now taking care of.

Juanito had suspected that foul play was involved, but whenever Leo would ask why, Juanito would tell him that the matters were too complicated and that he would never understand. But later on, Leo was able to convince Juanito to tell him what he was thinking and the answer was that one of the Five Families had done it. He was entirely unsure of which one, but he knew that one family did it.

The one thing Leo was never able to learn though was the letter that he gave to Givinni that day. Whenever Leo brought it up to Juanito, Juanito would curse in Italian and gave Leo the idea that he really would never find out.

From time to time, Kayla would go out to the back and cry for the loss of her uncle. Leo would hear her and would comfort her in the back, telling her that we would all pass someday. She stopped crying three weeks after the funeral.

As for Juanito, Leo noticed that from time to time, he would go out to the back of the deli, and not for a smoke or rest, but for something else. On a weekly basis, the same two men would come to the deli and ask for Juanito to meet them at the back alley.

On one weekend, Leo quietly followed Juanito to the back and overheard his conversation with the two men. As Leo recollected it, the two men were members of a certain family—Leo was unsure which one—and they demanded money from Juanito. As far as Leo could remember, Juanito didn't owe anyone anything anymore.

After awhile, Leo realized what these two men were demanding from Juanito: extortion money. Leo couldn't believe the deep shit he was in.

Their weekly visits continued and during each visit, Leo would again follow to try and figure which family these two belonged to. They wore dark golden suits; it was a color that Leo didn't recognize on any of the Five Families. Did any of the families change colors? Or was there a new family starting out business by extorting one of the most respected businessmen in Little Italy?

Either way, things did not go so well in the following weeks as the two extortionists demanded even higher prices and Juanito was soon losing more money than earning it. Juanito then made a decision one night; it was a decision that would not only change his life, but the also lives of the two children he took care of.


End file.
